


Courage and Hope

by bigblueboxat221b



Series: Sleep and Rest and Peace [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Backstory, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Post-Season/Series 04 Finale, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-18 04:00:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9367082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigblueboxat221b/pseuds/bigblueboxat221b
Summary: Set immediately after Sleep and Rest and Peace. Greg and Mycroft talk about how the Eurus incident has affected him, and what it might mean for both of them.





	

Mycroft woke slowly, his mind taking time to register his location (sitting room, sofa) and the time (no idea at all). Running one hand over his face, Mycroft winced. Definitely in need of a shave, he thought.

“Good morning,” a voice greeted him, and Greg entered with two steaming cups of coffee.

Mycroft just stared. “Not a dream, then,” he managed.

Greg shook his head, sitting close but not too close.

Mycroft belatedly registered the duvet spread over him. “What time is it?” He winced.

“About 5am,” Greg said. “Wednesday,” he added, he figured Mycroft might need that information, too. “You slept for 15 hours.” He passed one of the cups to Mycroft, who wrapped steady hands around it, grateful for the warmth.

“My brother sent you, then,” Mycroft asked, offering Greg an out from their unspoken admission of yesterday.

Greg looked at him steadily. “Sherlock asked me to check on you,” he said, choosing his words carefully, “But I wanted to come. I was worried, too.”

Mycroft nodded, though he frowned a little. The ambiguity still confused him, partly because he wasn’t entirely sure which option he’d rather Greg preferred. “I’m not the best company right at the moment,” he said finally. “The past week has been…challenging.”

“I’m sure it has,” Greg said.

“I’ve done things, made decisions…” Mycroft trailed off, lost in his regrets. “You should go, Gregory.”

“Maybe I should,” Greg said, “But I won’t. This is when you need people who care, Mycroft. When you think you don’t deserve anybody.” He sat quietly as Mycroft considered this, flexing his fingers around his coffee cup. Greg knew this was delicate ground and he didn’t want to push anything.

Mycroft drank slowly from his coffee, savouring the warm liquid. He spoke, not looking at Greg. “I made a terrible mistake.”

Greg nodded slowly, thinking. “Of all the things you’ve done in your life,” he asked, “all the difficult decisions, justices delivered, choices made, what’s the worst thing. The worst thing of all?” Mycroft blinked, then looked at Greg who regarded him levelly.

There was a long beat of silence, before Greg spoke again.

“When my wife first cheated, I mean the first time,” he said quietly, “I was furious. She didn’t know that I knew, so I just sat on it for weeks. But one day, I found a shirt of hers that smelled like someone else. That was it.” He shook his head at the memory, but his gaze did not leave Mycroft’s. “I followed her, found out who he was, then I found out all about him. I was obsessed. One dark night, I went to his house, and I threatened him. I told him that if he ever spoke to my wife again, he’d find himself subject to a long hard look from the drug squad, who would certainly find enough to put him behind bars. With his past, he’d be looking at doing serious time.” Greg’s face flushed as he thought of that time, but he gritted his teeth and continued.

“That’s mine. My worst time, the worst thing I ever did – I abused my position, the position of trust as a police officer, to threaten the man sleeping with my wife.” Mycroft was staring at him, eyes wide. Greg continued quietly, now addressing his hands. “That’s the darkest secret I have, Mycroft. The worst reflection of me.” He paused, then looked up and asked quietly, “Do you think any less of me?”

Slowly, Mycroft shook his head. “We all make mistakes, bad decisions,” he said softly. “Your personal attachment to your wife influenced your decisions, clearly. You have shown your true self many times, and this one instance does not redefine your character in my eyes.”

Greg nodded as he listened, the tension that had grown as he told his story flowing from his shoulders. “My question stands, Mycroft. Think about it. You don’t have to answer, but I hope you know this: whatever it is, and I suspect that it’s this thing with your sister, my response to you is the same. I’ve seen you Mycroft, you wrestle with impossible options every day. You made a choice based on the fact that this person is your sister, your blood. That may have clouded your judgement, but it’s part of you, like all of us. This one thing does not make you any lesser in my eyes.”

Mycroft took in a long shuddering breath as though he had been holding it as Greg spoke. “You’re asking me to consider emotion as a part of who I am, Gregory. This whole misfortune has occurred because of my sentiment, my guilt, my weakness with regard to my sister. Surely less emotion would be desirable in the future, to avoid such events?”

“From what Sherlock’s told me,” Greg said carefully, “It was your sister’s lack of understanding that lead to her choices. She had no choice, Mycroft, no way of comprehending or embracing emotion in her life. You do.” He leaned forward to emphasise his point. “You do experience emotions, Mycroft, but you’ve denied yourself so long you’ve forgotten how to deal with them. Get angry, feel guilty, look at what’s inside and try and take it on as part of you. You’re not any weaker for it, Mycroft. You’ll be stronger, I promise.”

Mycroft took another deep breath, sucking the oxygen into his lungs. “I don’t know if I can, Gregory.”

“Let’s start here, then.” Greg said, taking Mycroft’s coffee and turning to face him. Their knees were almost touching as they sat at right angles to each other. “Do you want me to go?” Greg asked.

Mycroft shook his head immediately.

“Why not?” Greg asked.

Mycroft hesitated. “It is a comfort to have you here, Gregory,” he answered finally.

Greg nodded. “Are you upset at your sister’s actions because you feel responsible for them?”

Mycroft nodded almost imperceptibly.

“Are you upset because your sentiment made you treat her differently?”

Again, a nod from Mycroft.

“That’s good, Mycroft,” Greg told him. “That’s what happens with family. You feel responsible for them, guilty for their mistakes, like it’s a reflection of your actions. But they’re not, Mycroft. Your family are adults, and their actions are their own. You should treat them differently, they’re your blood, but you can’t blame yourself for their choices, or the consequences. Your sentiment towards your family is not a weakness.”

Mycroft smiled bitterly. “I’ve spent a long time telling myself otherwise. Recent events have rather forced my hand toward the opposite way of thinking. It is not an easy transition, I find.” He paused and sighed. “It’s not as easy when you have nothing to hide behind.”

“What isn’t, Mycroft?”

“Life, I suppose.”

“No, it’s not. But if you let other people in around you, they make it easier.”

”Well I suppose now would be as good a time as any to begin.” Mycroft said. He straightened his posture, took a deep breath and said, “Thank you for coming to me last night, Gregory. I appreciate your concern. Your presence is, as I have said, a comfort, and I would be pleased to continue our acquaintance on a more personal level.”

Greg cleared his throat. “So you’d be interested in a personal relationship with me?" He said.

The flush on Mycroft’s cheeks was accompanied by a curt nod.

Greg grinned a huge grin. “You’re one of the bravest men I’ve ever known,” he said, then pressed his mouth to Mycroft’s in a chaste kiss.

Mycroft started, then closed his eyes and relaxed into the kiss. As they broke away, Mycroft murmured,

“Theirs not to make reply,

Theirs not to reason why,

Theirs but to do and die."

“Pardon?” Greg said, sitting back.

“Nothing," Mycroft replied, and smiled hesitantly at Greg. “Are you hungry, Gregory?”

“Starving,” Greg replied, and they rose in search of breakfast, hearts full of courage and hope.

**Author's Note:**

> Mycroft is quoting The Charge of the Light Brigade, by Alfred, Lord Tennyson.
> 
> I chose it because it's about people having faith in those directing them, even though they don't know what to expect and fear their path.


End file.
